Unrecognisable
by K900
Summary: A radio telegraph operator discovers Hans Landa's jacket and rides on the colonel's rank to help a woman in distress
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 1

Berlin, 1941.

11pm. A man in a military uniform walks down the cold streets. He is Pvt. Arthur Schwarz, a radio/telegraph operator at the military base nearby. He has just completed a 10 hour shift and his eyes have a glazed look about them.

 **—** **Lookout idiot!** screams the truck driver and he is rudely jolted back to reality. People stare at him from the sidewalk. He avoids their gaze and walks away with head bowed against the cold night air. Taking his wallet out of his pocket, he opens it and sighs. He ducks into a dark alleyway, and suddenly it is a very different place. It is dirty and plenty of unsavoury characters are standing around. A large man stands guard at the entrance of a private club. It isn't a drinking club or a restaurant, but an illegal dogfighting arena. From the outside he can hear the cheering going on. Arthur attempts to edge past the guard, using an exiting patron as his cover when he feels a heavy hand barring his way.

—Where do you think you're going? says the doorman.

—I'm going to place a bet. He says

—Officers only, chump. The man pushes him back forcefully that he crashes into a corporal, who yells at him for knocking his cigar out of his hand. He apologises and quickly leaves.

Having nowhere to go, he goes to his dreary apartment. Before he can turn the key, he is slammed up against the wall, cornered by two men in trench coats wearing hats that obscure their faces.

—Where is our fucking money, Arthur? Did you spend it all on booze or at the track?

He can feel the man's powerful grip on his windpipe, while the other man quickly stops his hand from reaching his sidearm. On his ribs he can feel the edge of a sharp knife cutting deep into the fabric of his uniform.

—Tell Heinrich I won't have it till payday. He'll get it then. The first of the month! I swear it, he gibbers.

—Or we break your legs, understood? The man tightens his grip, he can see Arthur already sweating profusely. His pulse racing beneath the uniform.

—Yes, you'll have it! he replies in a pitch slightly higher than his normal speaking voice. He can feel the knife withdrawn from his side. The grip on his neck loosened and the warm blood trickling underneath his shirt. He falls to the floor.

—Good boy. Says the man and slowly walks away, blending into the darkness. His companion trails behind, pocketing his switchblade. He throws Arthur's luger down the stairwell.

Shaking with fear, Arthur opens his jacket and pulls out a half empty bottle of whisky and greedily finishes it all. He throws the empty bottle, shattering it into pieces.


	2. Chapter 2

˘Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 2

The next day, Arthur reports to work at the Reichs Telegraph Service with a splitting headache. His supervisor looks at him disapprovingly as he hands him Uboat orders for transmission.

During the break, leaflets are circulated. Traitors to the Reich are shown. Many of them are unsavoury looking characters. One of them happens to be an attractive blonde, which catches Arthur's eye. Verena Haas, wanted for embezzling a million Reichmarks from the Treasury. Reward if captured alive: RM 50,000. _A reward like that could solve all my problems._

At the end of his shift, he walks down the closed offices of the ministry. On a bench, an officer's coat and cap that has been left behind. Seeing that he's all alone, he lifts to examine the coat. It belongs to a Colonel. Hans Landa SS, it says on the patch. He slings it over his arm and takes the cap. Excitement builds inside him as he realises that his theft has gone unnoticed. In a deserted street he puts on the coat and the cap. _It's a perfect fit._

He looks into a window to check his reflection. He can hardly recognise himself. He raises his chin and narrows his eyes like the officers do. He walks confidently and puts on his leather gloves. Somehow, he begins to feel rather grand in this elaborate costume.

He finds himself at the entrance of the officers only dogfighting club. Pulling the cap over his eyes, he starts to walk towards the imposing guard who threw him out last night. As he approaches, the guard begins to him suspiciously. Arthur grits his teeth in tension. The guard stands, clearly blocking Arthur's way, when suddenly he says _Come in, Colonel!_ rather warmly, gesturing broadly to the double doors. He gives the man 50 Marks, and is taken to a chair right in front of the fight pit. _Now that's more like it._

Three hours later, he emerges from the dogfighting club with 750 RMarks worth of winnings. He walks down the deserted streets with a spring in his step. Suddenly, he sees a woman being threatened by a thug. Without hesitation, he whips out his luger and puts it behind the man's ear.

 _Let her go or you'll get an earful of lead,_ he says calmly.

 _You got it, hotshot,_ the thug replies, loosening his grip on the brunette. She takes back her purse and goes to Arthur's side. _Thank you, colonel,_ she says to him. _I'm terribly grateful,_ she adds.

Just then, more men appear and begin to shoot at them. Arthur and the lady run through the alleyways, when the lady recognises a place nearby. She gestures to a heavy backdoor. _In there,_ she tells him.

Inside, a dance for soldiers and local women is in progress. A crowd so large, their pursuers will not easily find them. She brings him to the thickest part of the crowd, and join in the slow dancing. They see the thugs at the periphery unable to sort them out from literally a hundred couples on the dance floor.

He looks at her closely now and realises that she is quite a beautiful woman. _How exactly did I get here? One minute I was in a gambling den, and now I'm dancing with a pretty girl._

One of her pursuers, edges into the crowd, coming dangerously close to them. In a moment of panic, she plants her lips on his to hide her face. Shocked, Arthur is frozen for a second, when a sweet sensation overtakes them both and their kiss gives way to an unexpected tenderness. The feel of her warm body against his, her fingers playing at his nape electrify his senses. Their kiss deepens and the ballroom and everything else disappears around them.

When their long kiss has ended, their pursuers were long gone. Now that he can see every detail of her face, he realises he has seen her before, only she'd dyed her locks from blonde to a deep hazel.

 _You're a wanted woman,_ he says. Fear fills her eyes, she tries to pull away from him. He looks at her closely. By the state of her, it didn't look like she had a million RM on her. Her dress looked worn and she looked as if she had been running for days.

 _—_ _I didn't do it, I swear. I'm just a bookkeeper,_ she protests.

 _—_ _Who were those men? Why are they after you? he asks._

 _—_ _They're General Kieber's men. They're trying to stop me from reporting him to the High Command. He's the real thief. He's covered up his links to the theft, except me, who made the transactions on his behalf. I had no idea they were false govt projects. The funds were diverted to his personal account. Now, he's reported me to the Chancellery to take the fall._

 _—_ _Have you any proof of this?_

 _—_ _No. But the Reich Bank should have records of it. But being wanted I won't be able to get in there._ She glances at his shoulder patch. _You're an officer. You could request a copy for administrative purposes. We could go there tomorrow._ Her desperate plight filled him with pity. _Please help me, Col Landa._

He thought for a moment. By the state of her, she must be telling the truth. Anyone with the money would be on the other side of the country by now. Instead she goes to Berlin, to the lion's den.

 _—_ _Alright, Miss?_

 _—_ _Haas, call me Rena. Thank you, Col Landa._

Her use of this strange name grates against his ears. He wants to tell her the truth, but that would unravel her belief in him, in his ability to help her. He'd lied by omission but he didn't want to dash her hopes, either.

A waiter approaches them offering them drinks. He looks at the tantalising array of scotch, wine and vodka. After what they had gone thru, he could use a drink, but this lady, and this change that this uniform caused, made him feel like a different ∑altogether.

 _-No thanks,_ he says.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 3

Early morning, 8am. Arthur wakes on his couch, the rays of the morning sun on his face. He lays there a moment, thinking that the dogfighting club, Rena and her kiss must have been part of some whisky induced dream.

— _Sleep well?_ he hears a feminine voice say. He turns his head and it's her, standing over him. _It was no dream_ , he happily realises, until he remembers that he has led her here on a lie.

— _Well, thank you._ He replies.

He sees on the desk, by her purse, are scraps of paper with long strings of numbers typed on them.

—What are those?

 _—_ _In an attempt to recover my records, I learned that the general had stolen them. All I could find were transfer slips thrown into the wastebasket. I can't make out what the numbers mean._

He looks at them. _—I can't figure them out either. We need more information._

— _Thats why we ought to go to the Reich Bank and get copies of what Gen Kieber destroyed. The bank will have those. Have you a typewriter? I'll make an official request for duplicates._

He gestures her over to his desk, _over there._ he says, handing her paper as well.

Sometime later…

They sit at a café across the Reich Bank, waiting for the right time to make their move.

 _—_ _The Senior Comptroller's just arrived. Its time,_ she says.

They get up and make their way towards the entrance. Hans goes first, with Miss Haas trailing behind him, dressed like his personal secretary.

The richly decorated interior of the bank is impressive with its greek columns and intricately carved walls. A man in a suit, a junior clerk, comes to assist them.

 _—_ _May I assist you, Colonel?_

 _—_ _Yes, I need duplicates of a recent transaction that went thru the Reich Treasury. Do you know where we could obtain them?_

 _—_ _Indeed. That would be the Transaction Records Dept. Its at the 3rd Basement level, I shall take you there._

They go thru a series of corridors to an elevator. They emerge into a lower level, into a part of the bank often unseen by clients. It is no less stately, with its elegantly carved plaster walls. They enter an office of a rather slender man with large round glasses. He clicks his heels in acknowledgement to the colonel.

 _—_ _Heil Hitler! says the man. I am Caspar Allert of Records, how may I help you?_

Arthur gestures to Rena, who dutifully produces the written and stamped request for records.

 _—_ _We had a recent fire at the General Kieber's office. Some files were inadvertently destroyed. We require copies of the following transactions with the Treasury department._

The man reads the request, making sure all the usual hallmarks of an order are present. Rena knows he will notice the distinct lack of the General's official letterhead.

 _—_ _This request requires the official letter head of the General's office._

 _—_ _They too, were consumed by the fire._ Rena quickly reasoned out.

—Very well, identification is all that's required.

Arthur panics. _Identification?_ He starts to search his pockets while conjuring up some explanation.

— _I, ah…._ he feels a something inside the right hand pocket. He pulls it out. A calling card, of Hans Landa's. _Will this suffice?_

SS officers generally don't carry their ID cards, and Caspar, who doesn't want to end up in the russian front over a trivial security matter, grudgingly complies.

 _—_ _Of course_ , he says, and leads them to the archive, to an aisle and exits.

Rena carefully goes thru the heavy files. One after another, she slams them shut.

— _The files are missing. It's possible that Kieber's had them removed._

 _—_ _How?_

 _—_ _He's up for promotion to Brigadier General. This scandal could jeopardize his chances. With friends in high places and favours to grant, willing accomplices couldn't have been hard to find._

Just then, a tall bald heavy set man in uniform flashes a badge at them.

 _I am Inspector Gerold J_ _ager_ _of the Police! You are under arrest!_

They run out to the other end of the room to another exit, where a policeman lies in wait for them. Without thinking, Arthur knocks him out with a blow to the temple. Another officer down the hall shoots at them. Although the police were there, not enough had arrived at the scene, and the bank was too large a complex to secure. Arthur knew they would cover the obvious exits. If they had to escape, they'd have to use an unconventional way. What that would be, he had no idea.

Reaching a side stairwell, they rise, 2, then three levels. Rena grabs his arm.

— _Hans, I know a way._ She leads them up a further level. _The bank chairman has his own lift. Its in the middle of the bank and leads to a special exit to the outside. It's only used once a day and isn't constantly guarded._

Deftly they evade security as they run past. Upon reaching the elevator, they're lucky to find it unlocked. They take it down, bypassing levels where the policemen wait.

They exit at a carpark level. Police men await outside. Arthur spots a small stairwell to the back of the bank, and they follow it carefully up to ground level. As they go up, they find policemen standing with their backs to them, chatting away. Arthur and Rena wait patiently till they leave. Using the trucks as cover, they make their way to another street corner and blend seamlessly into the crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 4

They walk to a park and sit at a bench to regain their calm. In front of them is pond with ducks. They sit quietly, staring at the water.

 _—_ _What now?_ he asks. She rubs her temples.

 _—_ _I don't know_ , she says.

 _—_ _There must be another way._

She thought for a bit.

— _There is another avenue we can explore_ , she says. _I have a friend at the Reich Ministry of Finance. Franz Bruckmann. We were at university together. His apartment is just on the other side of the river. Let's wait till nightfall to pay him a visit. That way, we can move about more easily, and less likely to be recognised._

 _—_ _Sounds like a plan,_ he says.

She sees his fist is bloody and raw.

 _-You're hurt,_ she says and takes her scarf and wraps his hand with it.

He protests, but finds her touch oddly comforting.

 _—_ _There now, better, I hope?_ she asks. He nods.

— _How did you know about the chairman having his own lift?_

 _—_ _Oh, the usual office gossip. One of our friends had an affair with the chairman. He gave her access to this lift when he worked late. He ended it, though. His wife and her fortune in steel manufacturing were at stake._

 _—_ _Lucky for us you're not above gossiping, he said. She grinned and turned red._

Later that evening…

They stand across from Franz' apartment complex. Rena spies Franz walking away from the train station and thru the long walkway to his apartment.

 _—_ _That's him,_ she says. _The one in the dark grey coat, blue scarf._

Arthur recognises him straight away, a typical nondescript civil servant. One of thousands working for the Reich. They wait till he enters his home so as not to alert him to their presence. Standing outside his door, she knocks.

— _Who is it?_ they hear from inside. The man opens the door, and is momentarily struck dumb.

— _Verena? My god, what a surprise. Come in,_ he says. His eye falls on Arthur and the colonels uniform is not lost on him. _And you are?_

— _Hans._ he says simply. By the look in his eye, Verena and Arthur can see he's jumped to some conclusion that they must be together.

— _What brings you here_? he asks.

— _I need your help, Franz. I'm in danger. The govt thinks I've embezzled funds from the treasury. Which is a lie. I need your help to call up the deposits the treasury made to Gen Kieber's false project accounts. It's my only hope._

 _—_ _Is that so? Let me go to my study and check if I have access to those files. First let me make you both a coffee, he says._

 _He disappears into the kitchen._

 _—_ _So, how are our old friends from Uni?_

While she carries on speaking to Franz, Arthur follows him into the kitchen, and finds Franz dialing the telephone. Franz looks up at him, with a cold icy stare.

 _—_ _Rena, he's called the police,_ he says. They run out of the apartment and into the corridor out, where a policeman recognises them.

 _—_ _Halt!_ screams the man. They take descend the stairwell and out of sight. He pursues them, and before they can reach the bottom, the policeman throws down a Stielhandgrenate at them. To evade it, Arthur opens a side door to another corridor. They barely make it. The sound momentarily defeans them both, but they are unhurt.

They make their way out, when police cars come to the scene of the apartment. By then, Arthur and Rena have rejoined the crowd across the street. They keep walking away, not too fast to be of notice. But as they turn the corner, they are greeted by a gruesome sight. A gallows holds a hanged man. On his chest is a sign that reads Traitor. The sight of it sends a chill right through Rena.

A policeman stands ahead of them, observing passersby. They walk on, avoiding his gaze. She sees a pub.

—Let's hide in there for a bit, she says.

The sight of the bottles of scotch and whiskey unnerve him.

—No, not in there, he says more firmly than he intends. His harsh tone surprises her.

— Alright, she says.

A flyer flies past them, he picks one up. It is the reward announcement for the wanted traitors. Her picture is there. The words "To be shot on sight" figures prominently at the bottom.

—What is it, she asks.

—Nothing, just an ad, he says and throws it away.

They go to the train station and find that its crawling with policemen.

—We can't take the train home, he declares. We'll have to walk.

At his home, he sees a red streak down her ankle.

—What is that? he asks.

She finds her lower leg caked in blood.

—Shrapnel wound. Lie down. he says.

Quickly, he goes into the kitchen and fetches a bottle of Alcohol antiseptic, tweezers, cloth towels, and his first aid kit. He sanitizes the tweezers and cleans her wound with antiseptic. She winces when the alcohol makes contact with her open wound.

 _—_ _The shrapnel didn't go all the way through. It 's still inside. I have to get the piece out,_ he tells her. He goes to his liquor cabinet and sees a half consumed bottle of scotch and gives it to her.

— _Drink it all. he says_ and hands her the towel, _scream into this, bite into it if you need to. We can't afford to be overheard._

He brings a lamp closer to her leg for more light.

— _I'm sorry. You know i don't want to hurt you._

Holding down her leg firmly by the ankle, he takes a deep breath and searches for the shrapnel, sending her into heartrending agony. Beneath the towel, a muffled, blood curdling shriek escapes from her lips. Hearing her wince nearly makes him almost lose his nerve. He pulls out an inch long mangled piece of metal, its edges serrated.

With a cloth he disinfects the wound again. He sews up the shrapnel wound. Each stitch, sending fresh tears to her eyes. When its over, she feels like an empty shell, raw and ragged. He covers her wound with a long stout strip of gauze. After he covers her with a warm blanket, he can hear her sniffing.

—Are you hungry? he asks.

—No. Just stay with me for awhile.

—Sure.

More tears well up in her eyes.

 _—_ _I never thought Franz would give me up like that._

 _—_ _The SS probably got to him first. It is part of the procedure. Interrogate close friends and family. Not to mention harbouring a fugitive is a crime. They're frightened, is all. They don't know who to believe, you or the government. They'll always use the patriotism angle and if that doesn't work, threaten them with imprisonment. If the situation were reversed and he was wanted for embezzlement and came to you in the dead of night, who would you believe?_

 _—_ _Franz._

 _—_ _You're willing to go prison for your friend, if you're wrong?_

 _—_ _I…don't know._

 _—_ _The confusion you're feeling right now, is probably what he went through._

she bowed her head low looking sad and pensive.

He tries to comfort her by caressing her back. She finds it soothing, her eyelids grow heavy.

 _—_ _My grandmother used to do that to lull me to sleep, she says._

 _—_ _My mother too._

 _—_ _Where is your mother now?_

 _—_ _She's up north, she has a small dairy. Profits are small, but enough for her to live comfortably._

 _—_ _Sounds idyllic._

 _—_ _May I ask you something? he asks_

 _—_ _Ask away._

 _—_ _I saw the scars on your arms. Why do you cut yourself?_

she doesn't reply.

 _—_ _I .. I didn't mean to probe, he stammered. Just concerned, is all._

 _—_ _No one's ever noticed, nor asked me before._

 _—_ _If you let it out, maybe you wouldn't need to cut yourself. Have you tried that, just talking about it?_

 _—_ _No._

 _—_ _Maybe you could start._

 _—_ _It makes me feel good, for a short time anyway. Does that sound strange?_

 _—_ _It does, he says. It's a terrible habit. Maybe you ought to stop._

 _—_ _Your trash bin is filled with nothing but whisky bottles. Maybe you ought to stop as well?_

He sighs deeply and looks her dead in the eye. — _I'll stop drinking if you stop cutting yourself, deal?_ he asks.

—It's a deal, Hans.

The strange name grates against his ears. He wants to tell her the truth, but the shame of his deception stops him.

—Get some rest, he says, it's past midnight.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 5

The next morning, Rena wakes and finds Hans looking closely at the papers she saved from Gen. Kieber's trash bin.

—What are you doing, Hans?

—These numbers. They're familiar somehow. How many digits are the Kieber's accounts?

—Ten. I know them all by heart.

—And the Treasury account numbers?

—Twelve.

—There's a series of numbers here I can't make out, and this paper, it's too coarse and grey for official use. Were these funds wired?

—Yes, using the new Telex system.

—Telex, you say?

He goes to his bookcase and pulls out a slender volume on bank telex transfers.

—Of course! he says, The short numbers refer to the branches involved. seven digits indicate the transaction codes, the last five indicate the recipient institution, which in our case is Gen Kieber himself. It's all here, the information to prove Kieber's theft. The Telex service would have a copy of this as well.

—How do we get it to the authorities?

—We could send it thru a telegraph to the Treasury.

—What if I walked into a police station and surrendered?

—Kieber's men might get to you in police station. Its likely he'll have policemen in his payroll too. We could get in touch with Inspector Jäger. I don't think Kieber can corrupt a person as high as an inspector. He could guarantee your safety. Let me go to the Police Station and find him.

Before he could head out the door, she stopped him.

 _—_ _Wait, I have something for you._ She has something in her closed hand

 _—_ _What is it?_ she opens her hand. It a small pin in silver, depicting a double headed eagle.

—I want you to have it.

—What for?

—for being brave. My father gave it to me when I was twelve. I had gotten lost during a hike and because of everything he taught me about mountaineering I survived 2 and a half days in the wilderness alone. I want you to have it.

—I'm not brave, just foolhardy.

—Whatever you want to call it, she says, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

He walks the streets when a heavy set man grabs him and pushes him roughly into an alleyway. He puts a knife to his neck.

—Where's the girl?

—Who are you?

—Let's just say I am in the employ of a rising star in the Wehrmacht. So, I say again, where is she?

—You'll just have to kill me, because I won't tell you.

—We know you aren't Hans Landa. Would you rather we take you to the nearest police station and have them book you for impersonating a military officer? Not to mention harbouring a known fugitive? I believe the judge will give you, maybe 15 years if you're lucky.

Arthur was silent.

—Not so brave now, are you? How about we sweeten the deal. There's 50,000 RMarks reward for her capture. Give the bookkeeper to us, and we'll pay you in cash. No strings attached.

—How do you want me to turn her over?

—Bring her to the Cathedral Park, about 8pm tonight and we'll take it from there. Don't be late.

and the man let him go.

He goes to a public phone and calls his home. She answers.

—Hello?

—this is Hans. Meet me at La Louisiane. Disguise yourself and take the back streets.

—You sound different, what's wrong?

—I'll explain everything later.

That night…

Rena walks into La Louisiane and in a dark corner, finds Hans with his button jacket undone, emptying a bottle of whisky.

—We had a deal, Hans.

—I know. I'm sorry.

—What's going on? I thought you were going to the police station. What happened?

—Kieber's man found me. He's threatening to put me in prison for helping you. You must go to Inspector Jager's alone. I'm sorry, but I can't go with you. We'll exit through the backdoor. I'll say goodbye to you there.

they quietly make their way to the back alley.

—This is my fault, she realises, if I hadn't come to you for help…

—Don't blame yourself. I wanted to help you.

From behind them, a figure emerges from the shadows.

—Hey, Hans Landa!

Arthur turns, and feels a strong punch to his temple. He blacks out.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 6

A hand slaps Arthur awake. He finds himself in a dimly lit room. Standing before him is Aldo the Apache.

—Where's Rena?

—She's in the next room.

—If any harm comes to her..

—Relax. She'll be fine. Unlike you…

—What do you want from me? I don't know anything important.

—It ain't what you know, Landa. The French Resistance has a price on your head, Jew Hunter.

—Jew Hunter? Arthur realises he's made the biggest mistake of his life.

 _—_ What are you going to do with me?

—We might go for the reward, but, seeing as you've gotten away with murder, I think we should despatch you ourselves, in the way we find fitting.

—Let Rena go.

—No can do, sport. She's seen us.

Just then, Wilhelm Wicki enters the room.

—Chief, we can't find a reliable way up Thor's Ridge.

—Rena's a tracker, Arthur intercedes. She knows the mountain passes better than anyone else. She's been exploring the wilderness here all her life.

Aldo thinks for a bit. —Ask her, Wicki. If you like her answer, maybe we can keep her on.

—Aldo, I have a request. Arthur asks.

—What is it? he says, lighting a cigarette with a zippo.

—Let me send a telegraph message to the police.

—Do I look stupid to you, Landa?

—No, you don't understand, this girl has a death sentence hanging over her and she's completely innocent. This message could clear her name. Please. It's all I ask.

—Show me the text, and I'll consider it.

Later that evening, Arthur is permitted to visit Rena.

—Rena! Are you alright? he approaches her.

But something is different. she backs away from him. There is fear in her eyes.

—They say, you're the jew hunter.

The words crush him.

—You lied to me, she says. He can hear the hurt in her voice.

—Because if you knew who I was, you wouldn't let me help you. One day, you'll discover the whole truth, and maybe then you'll understand. I'm sorry.

—Where are they taking me?

—They need you, to guide them through the forest. I can't think of a better place for you to hide. With them, you'll be out of reach of Kieber's men and the police. Aldo promised me that they won't harm you.

—Where will happen to you?

—They'll take me to the french resistance, I suppose.

—Will I see you again?

—I really don't know. I'm sorry, this isn't how I hoped this would turn out. Goodbye Rena.

She puts her arms around him. Jew hunter or not, she hugs him anyway.

—Thank you, for everything, she says. She wants to hold on, just for a little while longer, but is made to let go.

—that's enough, says Wilhelm Wicki.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Unrecognisable

Chapter 7

Months later in a forest in southern Germany

The Basterds are under attack by enemy forces. Rena is with them. In a hasty retreat, she is left behind for dead.

She wakes in a hospital. At her bedside she finds Inspector Jager.

—How are you feeling Miss Haas?

—What happened?

—Judging by the doctor's report, you have a broken rib, a fractured femur and a mild concussion. You should be out in a few days.

she sees the chrome handcuffs at the back of Jager's belt.

—Am I under arrest?

—On the contrary, I'm here to inform you, that you're no longer wanted by the state. You're free.

—How did that happen?

—While you were with the Basterds, I received a telegraph message from Pvt. Arthur Schwarz, proving your innocence. An investigation was conducted and the Treasury has rescinded your charges. General Kieber, as we speak, is facing the high court for treason.

—Who is Arthur Schwarz?

—He was a wehrmacht radio telegraph operator that went AWOL.

Jäger holds up Arthur's photograph from his file.

—Hans? I don't understand. All this time…

Jäger realises that Schwarz never told her the truth.

—This man, stole a colonel's jacket to enter an illegal gambling den.

—He was not the jew hunter at all. He was speaking the truth. Where is he now?

 _—_ _I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. He didn't make it. He was beaten to death by the Bear Jew. When we found him, his right hand was clasped tight over this:_ He shows her in a small plastic sleeve, a blood encrusted pin of a double headed eagle.

—He was so badly beaten, he was…unrecognisable.

 _the end_


End file.
